The Inner Tycoon

Once in a while I think about getting my inner-tycoon on. But how? Gems are mined out. Forests are damn near gone and exportable endangered animals are getting harder and harder to find. I could open a bar-clothing shop, but....that seems like kind of a dumb-ass thing to do. Stumped. I looked to KKrom. She had much to say. I understood nothing. She rambled on forever and wouldn't stop. I looked to the Internet. The Japanese had the answer.

It may be a challenge to find a good ice cream sundae or a safe blood transfusion, but when it comes to nose pickers, I'm surrounded by Vikings. I have access to talent that could make me the Scorcese of nose-picking dvds. Between that and the amount of used, worn out underwear readily available for export, I 'll have enough money to open my own Bubble-Tea Shop in no time. I'll be partying on yachts with twin midgets....I decided to celebrate this lightening bolt of inspiration with a night on the town.





California 2 Guesthouse:
Pretty busy. Khao San Rd showed up in force, drawn by the neon* whiteboard announcing .75 Beer Lao. They talked about sandals, vegan diets, and American Cultural Imperialism (in the form of antiperspirant-deodorant.) But, whatever, they were having fun and so was I. FatTRRY and an unknown at the bar yelling about which one had more money...or maybe it was who had less money. Then they started in on who knew more about money..or maybe it was who knew less. Either way, I had nothing heavy to throw at them, and it was nearing 11pm. Two down and off to Sharky Bar.

Sharky Bar:
Decent crowd. Good vibe. Go-cart race postponed for a week. No one seemed to mind. The sexy sister looking good in a red dress. Distracting. But KKrom has been camped out at my pad, so I concentrated on the $ booze. A sumo-sized Finn chased an agile waitress behind the bar. She ducked under the bar-gate like a jackrabbit. Quick. Nimble. He thought about following and...stopped dead and walked away. Wish he'd have given it a try. Visions of Winnie the Pooh stuck in a honey pot. Loaded up on some (kick-ass) popcorn ($1) downed a couple more and caught a buzz courtesy of HuGrnt. Time to go. 1-something AM. Drunker than I thought but...what the hell:

Bar 104:
Good tunes. Dark. Chill crowd. Lot of women. SITChris ruled the Foosball table. Don't let the receding hairline fool you. (Just kidding buddy.) Vodka ($2). We sat outside and talked about the chances for a new late night place on Street 51. Bar 51 not making the cut. Tweaker working there too unpredictable. Martin left his grilled beef unattended. ChillPaul pounced like a croc on a bloated floater. I joined in reluctantly.** Good shit. Gets it somewhere near Wat Phnom. Past 2am. Foosball champ had to work at 8am - thinking, to W or not to W? He talked it over (with himself) as he headed to his bike. Time to go. But first....

The Angry Muppet:
Kind of empty inside. Wanted to settle a tab. FatTrry at the bar listing a bit. AngryMPT looking worried. He knew what was coming. Paid. Home. Sleep.

30 mins later an SMS Report: FatTrry puked all over the bar-top. Bar staff up in arms. Funny as hell. Didn't smell so good, though.

Another Wednesday.

Anyway, Kkrom just gored me with a toenail. I'm off to treat the gash on my kneecap with some soap and water, so...

Happy Friday T'Y'All.


(*there is no neon whiteboard)
(**maybe it was me who pounced and he was the one who was reluctant...)